


Back to the Days

by beaches_at_treasure_island



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Out of Character, Parallel Universes, Possibly Pre-Slash, Spell Failure, Stiles Saves The Day, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, possible future sterek, pretty much everyone i can remember tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaches_at_treasure_island/pseuds/beaches_at_treasure_island
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles screws up a spell and gets sent to the past via a parallel universe, so he decides to change a few things. Who knows, maybe he’ll help out more friends and family along the way.</p><p>Teen Wolf AU – Canon Divergent, mostly canon thru S3A. Scott doesn’t become true Alpha, Derek stays an alpha but gives up his full wolf form to save Cora. He gives up the freedom that form gives. Totally AU post 3A.</p><p>Title from "Return to Pooh Corner" by Kenny Loggins</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To say that Stiles was having a bad day would be an understatement. It had started with Scott waking him up at two am by phone to inform him that Derek had called an emergency pack meeting. Stiles had been up until nearly one in the morning researching the newest Big Bad in town, the one they were likely meeting to discuss. At two a.m... On top of his research, Stiles had also been studying magic and training his Spark with Deaton in what little spare time the teen had. Then, after the meeting was over, Stiles was to head into the woods with Scott to check out the dump site from the most recent body in hopes that there was some evidence the pack could use to find the Big Bad.

Fortunately, Stiles found traces of odd magic in a wide circle around the site, a ritual circle large enough for fifty men. Unfortunately, Deaton had left town the evening before to visit his ailing mother in New York, leaving Stiles in charge of all things magical until his return. Great.

So when Scott had left his friend alone back at the hyperactive teen’s house, Stiles had found a spell book that exuded the same feeling that the odd ritual magic from before had and decided to recreate it. Because boredom, why else? So Stiles had set the circle up in the same spot, around the dump site. Thing was, the circle was drawn with Mountain Ash, making it impossible for werewolves to cross. However, it didn’t stop them from being annoying. By the time Stiles was nearly done, the entire Hale pack had surrounded the ritual circle, pleading for Stiles to halt and tell them what he was doing. So distracted was he, Stiles didn’t realize he had read a piece of the spell wrong until the wind picked up and the world spun and he had blacked out.

\---------------

Stiles woke to a too bright room and a pounding migraine. It felt like a hangover, but from magic, not alcohol. He’d experienced it twice before after disregarding Deaton’s warnings. The teen lay on his bed for what felt like an hour with his hand resting over closed eyes before he decided to get up. After his first bout of magical hangover, Stiles had created a hangover cure kit that he’d stashed in his desk after explaining to his freshly in the loop father what it was and what it was for. He didn’t want his dad to think he was doing drugs, again. How the man could even mistake wolfsbane for marijuana, Stiles would never know.

Unfortunately, when Stiles stood and cautiously opened his eyes, he was taken aback. This wasn’t his room – no, that wasn’t true. This was his room, but it hadn’t looked this way for years, not since... The last time Stiles saw his room this way was before his mother died.

Stiles looked down at the floor, at himself and his body. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, and fuck. He was nine years old. Again. Stiles cursed again, this time out loud. “Shit!”

“Stiles!” He heard his father reprimand, boots thudding in the hallway. “What have I said about using that sort of language?”

Being a teen who knew this by rote, he stated, “Strong language is only for adults because they can deal with the consequences their actions and words bring,” without hesitation.

“Uh, well...” John Stilinski stood dumbstruck in Stiles’ doorway. “Yes, right. And you’re a kid and shouldn’t be using curse words. Understand? If I hear you curse again, you won’t like the consequences.”

“Yes, dad,” Stiles answered reflexively, sighing in relief when his father left.

“Oh,” John added popping his head back in. “And stay quiet and out of trouble. I have a 24 hour shift and your mother is sleeping.”

“Okay, dad,” Stiles said with a soft smile.

\---------------------

After his dad had left in his cruiser, Stiles had spent an hour and a half figuring out the date and everything that had happened recently or was happening soon.

Paige’s death. Malia’s disappearance. Deucalion and the rest of the Alpha pack and their first betrayal of the Hale pack. His mother’s death. The Hale Fire.

It was shortly before Christmas of 2003. The first two things had to have already happened. Paige was likely dead already. Malia might still be with her mother, but Stiles wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like he had his own computer just yet. That happened after...

Stiles paused. His mother was still alive. Hell, she was in just the other room, resting to conserve what little energy she had while fighting her illness. It was rare that actually slept, even on meds, but she rarely left her room during the day. The light bothered her eyes too much and she needed help to stand and walk, her shakiness and constant vertigo preventing her from moving under her own power.

Struck with sudden need, Stiles stood and rushed to his parent’s bedroom. Softly he knocked on the door. “Mom?” he whispered.

“Stiles?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart.”

Stiles felt his heart clench. It had been seven years since he’d last heard his mother use that epithet. Stiles padded into the room and drew himself to her bedside. Claudia Joy Stilinski was still radiant even in her terminal illness. She had that beauty about her that was more than just her appearance. Even as depressed as she could have been with her looming death, Claudia chose to have a positive outlook on life. For all she knew, tomorrow some new wonder drug could be synthesized, one that could draw her back from the precipice or at least extend her life a few more years.

“Hey, mom.”

“Hello, baby boy.”

Claudia knew something was off when he didn’t protest her pet name. Instead, Stiles gave a quiet sob and gently threw his arms around his mother.

“I love you, mommy,” Stiles wept as he hugged her. “I love you so much and I wish that you could fight this. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Again?” Claudia was sure her son hadn’t lost her ever before.

“Mom,” Stiles said, pulling back and wiping his tears away even as they continued to fall down his cheeks. “I know you studied with Deaton.”

“What? Stiles, how?”

“I know because I did something very stupid in 2011. Mom, I’m your sixteen year old son, who fucked up some stupid spell and accidently sent myself back in time into my nine year old body.”

“But... Sixteen?”

“It’s been almost seven years since you... Since I last saw you.”

“Oh, Stiles,” Claudia murmured as she tugged her son close again. “You really shouldn’t be telling me any of this. I might change something.”

“Not if...it’s a parallel universe!” Stiles jumped up. “I’m a genius. Oh, god. I have to go talk to Mr. Cryptic himself, don’t I? Ugh!”

“What are you going on about?”

“I need Deaton to help me verify if this is a parallel or shadow universe or the one I’m originally from. If it’s a parallel, I can change events without fear of screwing up the future. If I’m careful, that is.” After a moment, Stiles nodded to himself again. “Yes. Deaton. I’ll be back, mom. Promise. I love you.” He hugged her again and pressed a kiss to her cheek lovingly as she bid him to stay safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is being posted a week or so early bc I'm really excited about the response to this fic. I plan to update every other Friday bc college starts up soon so don't be discouraged if it seems like I'm not posting :)

It was odd, Stiles mused, biking around Beacon Hills as a nine year old once again. He hadn’t ridden a bicycle since he had received his license and his mother’s old blue Jeep. Still, the town had an air of familiarity about it. It wasn’t completely different to the future but it wasn’t quite the same either. Some businesses weren’t the ones Stiles remembered in his own time. Some buildings and houses hadn’t yet been built or were in the process of it still.

As Stiles glided into the parking lot behind Deaton’s veterinary practice, he felt guilty and apprehensive, knowing he was in for one of the man’s silent-angry lectures. He tucked his bike along the outer wall, where Scott’s own bike would one day often find itself, and entered the building.

“Dr. Deaton?” Stiles called out respectfully when the front room was empty and he couldn’t hear the man puttering around in the back.

“Ah, yes. Can I help you, child?” Deaton appeared silently and mysteriously like usual, standing behind the Mountain Ash counter.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski. You helped train my mother before she got sick, and you were helping train me when I messed up while you were out of town. I screwed up a spell seven years in the future and need to know if this is the same universe or if it’s a parallel one.” Stiles cut to the quick, not feeling the need to pull teeth and endure Deaton’s probable anger.

Deaton paused and stared at Stiles for a moment before muttering under his breath. The words the boy could make out identified a spell for determining someone’s identity. A few seconds later, Deaton lifted the counter and stepped back.

“You know your way to my office, I’m sure.”

\-----------------------------

The ensuing conversation had been harrowing to say the least. Deaton, being a druid and not a Spark, was more about keeping the balance than actually changing or influencing anything if he was able to. Stiles, however, was active in his pursuits and usage of all things magical. Deaton and Stiles had clashed on the issue in the future and the past and now (as Stiles was experiencing it) the present. At least the guy was consistent.

“Look, Deaton, all I want to know is how to figure out if this is my timeline or a parallel universe because, honestly, I don’t want to fuck the future up if at all possible. So please, man, help a guy who just woke up seven years younger out?”

Deaton sighed, brows drawn close in thought, then nodded. “Yes, perhaps that is the best course of action. Let me check my books. It will only take a moment. Stay here, out of sight, please. No need to worry any possible patients or their owners with the Sheriff’s unattended son lurking around my office.”

Stiles snorted but did as the man asked, watching as he left the room to go to his resource room, where he housed his patient files as well as medical and veterinary journals and other helpful documents for both parts of his life.

The druid returned triumphant, clutching an old leather-bound book that felt like the one Stiles had used to perform the ritual in the future. “This should do it,” Deaton told the boy. He flipped to the page he was referencing and slid it over to Stiles.

The boy perused the writing, making note of the simple spell required to determine his universe in relation to this one. After a few minutes, he nodded. “This looks like the one. Do you have some paper I can copy the spell onto?”

\-------------------------

To do the spell and find out if he was in his ‘verse or another, Stiles had to be in the same approximate area to where the other ritual occurred. Thankfully it was in a non-public area. Unfortunately, it was in the Preserve on Hale property, the property that bore a large ‘NO TRESSPASSING’ sign. When Stiles had informed Deaton that he didn’t want to interact with the Hales until he’d figured out where he was, the druid had helpfully – for once – swiped a wolfsbane, Mountain Ash and mistletoe mixture that would hide him from werewolf senses across the boy’s forehead, chest, wrists and armpits (though Stiles did the last one himself). It would only last an hour, maybe two if he was extremely lucky, so Stiles immediately took off to perform the spell.

He easily found the spot that would one day be the dump site that became his ritual circle. Tossing around the same sized circle of Mountain Ash, Stiles sat in the center of it, legs crossed. Using a thick sort of ointment crafted by mint, mugwort, and marigold, Stiles drew the Dara Celtic knot on top of the Five-Fold symbol. Then he read off the string of words he’d copied down in Deaton’s office, willing the spell to work, as intent and belief are two highly important components for magic to work.

The book had told him the different ways to note which universe he was in, how the spell’s response would guide him to his answer. The air grew cold, too cold for a summer’s day, and the clearing darkened as thunderclouds loomed overhead. The trees swayed violently around the clearing.

With all these signs, Stiles knew he was not in his own universe. However, it was impossible for a Spark to move between universes more than once under their own power, according to Deaton’s craptastic tome. Also, only another Spark could possibly send him back but the danger the ritual entailed made it so he might end up in another entirely different universe. Crap.

Stiles used Mountain Ash to neutralize the sigils on his arm, then dispersed the ritual circle. Just as he began to head back to the main road for the bike he’d stashed under a bush, he heard a deep growl emanating from the trees to his left. Shit.

Maybe asking ‘what else could go wrong with today’ was a bad idea.


	3. Chapter 3

“Uh, hey, could whichever werewolf just growled please just come out and use their words? I’m a nine year old kid. I can’t really fight back. No more Mountain Ash, you see, and I don’t carry aconite. And, uh, I’d appreciate if whoever it is wouldn’t rip my throat out...with their teeth?” Stiles rambled, praying that perhaps the werewolf was one that didn’t bite first and ask questions later and cursing his luck when it came to the shelf life for the anti-scent tincture.

Silently, a figure emerged from the copse of wooded land. Shit, it was Peter. Well, it was Peter pre-fire, though, so maybe he wouldn’t be all Creepy Uncle Zombie.

“Who are you? What are you doing on Hale property?” The man growled. Despite being maybe thirty years old, the man was menacing in his protectiveness, especially with Stiles’ nine-year-old brain.

“I’m Stiles Stilinski. My mom’s Claudia. Look, I had to check something. I sort of fucked up a spell in the future in a parallel timeline and now I’m stuck here. But, hey, since it’s parallel, I can fix all the shit that happened when I was little and you won’t be Creepy Uncle Zombie. Oh, hey! Laura’s still alive. I always wanted to meet her! And Derek’s mom! Oh, and we can go find Malia!” Stiles rambled nervously, but was also excited that he could fix all his friends’ lives and let them keep their families.

“What are you talking about, boy?” Peter’s eyes, not yet blue, glowed amber as he growled at the child.

“I told you, I done goofed, transported myself through timelines AND worlds, and since I pretty much can’t go back, I’ll just have to fix everything. I was... almost sixteen when I messed up that spell. Future Deaton is going to kill me if I ever do make it home...” Stiles mused.

“Mmmhmm...” Peter hummed, obviously not believing the apparent time traveller.

“Look, could you please just take me to your Alpha, Talia Hale? I have a general idea of what needs to be done, and I’d like the entire Hale pack to survive past just you, Derek and Cora after this year. Well, and Laura, until shit goes down. Anyway, take me to your leader... Cool, I’ve always wanted to say that!”

\-----------------------

Tramping through the forest with a thirty year old werewolf was not what Stiles had planned on for his day. However, he was going to see Alpha Hale, Derek’s mother, so he tried to stay ‘whelmed’, to quote the original Robin from one of his favorite DC cartoons, _Young Justice_. Dick Grayson was always whelmed, always feeling the aster. He avoided the ‘dis’. Stiles took on that shade of emotion as he followed Peter the creeper back to the Hale House, the one from before the fire.

It felt like he’d been walking foreeeeeever through the preserve, feet crunching on the dead leaves underfoot as he followed Derek’s uncle to the house. Finally, finally, the Hale House loomed ahead in the distance, appearing through the towering trees. Stiles heard children running around before he saw them, the laughter of small children maybe four or five years of age wrestling and growling at each other playfully.

Sitting on the porch was an older teenager, her hair long, wavy and dark. Her eyes were crinkled as she smiled at her cousins and siblings out on the lawn. In her lap, a hard backed novel lay abandoned as she watched over her family like the Alpha she would one day be.

“Peter!” Laura called happily to her uncle. “Where have you been?” Stiles was too short for her to see him around the tall Beta.

“I found a trespasser. He knows about us and demanded to see our Alpha.” Peter stepped aside to reveal the nine year old body hiding behind him.

“Hi, Laura!” Stiles piped up cheerily, projecting his aster. “I’m Stiles, Stiles Stilinski. My mom’s Deaton’s trainee and my dad’s the sheriff. I travelled from a parallel universe’s future by accident and need to talk to your mom so I can stop something bad from happening soon.”

“Uh...” Laura said intelligently as she stared at the boy. “Let me go get her...”

Numbly, Laura stood and loped into the house to search out her mother as Peter glared disbelievingly at Stiles in a manner reminiscent of Derek.

\-------------------------------

Talia Hale was as majestic as she was august, but she also felt motherly in a way. She stood imposingly on the top stair of the front porch, peering down impressively at the small boy who claimed to have knowledge of that which he should not.

“Alpha,” Stiles acknowledged, dropping to his knees and baring his throat to the ancestral line of his pack’s alpha-hood. Talia raised an eyebrow but said nothing, so Stiles remaining in that position as he began to speak.

“Alpha Hale, I come from the year 2011. I am Stiles Stilinski, of Claudia and John Stilinski, of the Stilinskis of Beacon Hills. I was part of the future Hale Pack. We were investigating a supernatural occurrence that I determined was invoked by magic. As Emissary Deaton was away on business, I as Emissary Trainee attempted to figure out what the spell used was through reverse, unwinding it as I went. I did not know it was temporal and universal in nature and was sent here, to a parallel universe in the past. As it is not my universe, I am able to tell you all of this and more, so that the tribulations my pack has endured do not come to pass.”

Stiles had been trained by Derek, Peter and Deaton in the ways of emissary diplomacy. He did not meet Talia’s eyes, and he remained on the ground with bared throat as he spoke respectfully and precisely. If she accepted him and his words as true, he would be invited to stand and retire to her office to explain in more detail. Stiles stayed kneeling for what might have been two minutes before Talia Hale nodded and gestured to him.

“Stand, Trainee Stilinski, and come to my office,” Talia instructed him. Without waiting, she turned and headed into the house. Stiles stood swiftly, dusting off his pants, and followed her without hesitation.


End file.
